Hell On Earth
by Becky Natsuko
Summary: "All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy." AmericaxOC EnglandxOC
1. Prologue

**Hell On Earth**

Prologue

_January 1800_

_"Where have you been sister dear?" Anthony looks towards the back door, where his twin sister, Elise (as she prefers to be called) closes the back door quietly. Anthony sits at the table reading the newspaper by candlelight. His ebony hair looks black in the dim light and he is slouching- something he only does when their parents, or their older brother Clyde, aren't around._

_Elise brushes the snow off of her big woolly coat before hanging it up, "I have been nowhere of importance, I simply could not sleep and so I went for a walk, that's all," she replies curtly with her back turned to him. She hangs her coat with great care, as her brother stands and pours some wine for her and a gin for him, and he sets them on the big wooden dining table carefully. Elise sits._

_"You're lying," Anthony holds his twin's stare._

_"Ladies don't lie, nor do they visit a man unchaperoned." They continue to stare at each other, waiting for the other to break. "How's Susan?" Anthony's eyebrows furrow as he begins to get angry, Elise laughs, "Gentleman don't get mad dear brother."_

_"I find it intriguing that you were first to bring up visiting men unchaperoned, is there something you ought to tell me my dearest sister, __Naomi__?"_

_Elise, or Naomi rather, begins to feel the familiar bubbling of adrenaline one feels when they know a fight is ensuing however she brushes the feeling off and replies in a calm and even voice, "No, what about you brother dear_est_?" Anthony shakes his head, picking up his glass of gin he holds it out,_

_"A toast?" Anthony and Naomi share a special connection, one that could be shared between best friends, they both seem to know everything about each other without needing to be informed, like they share a rapport. Often they will tell each other things without saying anything at all or they'll go with the more obvious option of saying things with double-meanings._

_"To what?" Naomi quizzes curiously._

_"To love."_

_Their glasses clink._

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><p>March 2015<p>

I open my eyes, the room is filled with streaks of light from the early morning sun, blocked by the blinds on the windows. Sitting up, I can hear the birds singing with joy- to signal the end of a long and cold winter- and I can smell the dew on the green grass. I crawl to the end of the bed and open the blinds, outside there are numerous animals prancing about, rabbits and deer, in the distance I can see a bear on the mountain top, stretching its limbs. Squirrels knock rain drops off the green leaves of trees as they leap from branch to branch. On the horizon the sun rises slowly, lighting up the woodland tree by tree.

One of the reasons why I love this place is because it makes me feel like one of those girls from the fairy tales but I would never tell anyone that, obviously. I dress in clothes that Flavio would call old-fashioned and make my way to a tower I had built for myself, coincidently it's come to be called Rapunzel Tower by many except me, of course. I keep all my books in there because my tiny cabin in the woods is too small and after living for two-hundred years, you collect quite a few books.

The wet grass is cold against my bare feet as I walk the trail to my tower in a large woodland in Canada somewhere, I can't exactly remember where though but I wouldn't say I'm lost, definitely not. I take the stairs to the top of the tower where I'm greeted by Oliver.

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><p>The door to a small apartment, belonging to one Alison Laidley, closes with a bang, however, not five minutes later is it opened again as the twenty-two year old storms out to go and pick up her drunk sister and her sister's lover who is an over-the-top environmentalist.<p>

After arriving at the bar her sister said she was at she gets out the car. Her sister, Ellen is nowhere just as her sister's girlfriend, Lauren, is missing too. Allison calls Ellen and then Lauren, neither of them answer. Allison enters the bar and heads straight over to the bartender, she's serving a customer.

"Why hello there beautiful, what can _I_ do for _you_ to-night?" the bartender greets leaning against the bar, her low-cut top showing an enormous amount of plastic cleavage.

"Hi there, I'm looking for my sister, she's about yay-high, dirty-blonde hair and brown eyes and she was with another girl too, have you seen her?" Allison responds ignoring the other girls advances.

"Why yes I have, she's right out back- passed out from all those drinks, come on I'll show ya." The woman introduces herself as Kylie and shows Allison out the back into an alleyway. It's filthy, the dumpster's over-flowing with rubbish and the pungent smell of vomit is stained into the walls. There's graffiti covering just about every square-inch of the area and trash bags lie haphazardly all over the place. The alley is barely illuminated by the street lamp at the entrance and if one were to listen they'd be able to hear the scampering of foraging vermin.

"K-Kylie? My sister's not out here," Allison stammers out, a sudden feeling of anxiety washing over her.

"_Oh_, I _know_ she's not," Kylie replies turning, a bloodthirsty smirk and lustful gleam in her ruby eyes.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Tell me your thoughts in the review section as to whether you liked this or not and also tell me whether this is worth continuing! Also;<strong>

***Disclaimer: I don't own nor am I in any way affiliated with Hetalia or Hidekazu Himaruya!***

**Ciao!**


	2. Chapter 1

**I'm back! Thanks to ****_redwave166_**** for the follow! I hope you're all enjoying this- if so would you mind reviewing and telling me WHY or if you don't like it then tell me how I can improve! You can follow or favourite too/instead! Enjoy chapter 1! :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"I can't believe it!" I comment to no one in particular, viciously drinking sips of my tea, "That... that… that… _ninny_!" I put down the tea before furiously pacing my tower. "Forever changing his mind, first he wants me to stay with him and then one hundred years later it's- _actually poppet, you best go stay with Uncle Matt because it'll be safer there_! And now..." I stop outside the window and gaze out towards the setting sun, "Oliver, this was the last straw."

In truth before Oliver mentioned it a few weeks ago I had no intentions of heading to the 1P dimension and I even went so far as to decline his offer of going but he pleaded, and pleaded and _pleaded_ until I said yes and yet today he seemed to have no recollection of ever asking me! When I asked about when we were due to leave however he became so… cold almost… before he forbade me from going… This is what piqued my curiosity.

His reaction was so fascinating that I know I have to go there now. And I've also had enough of him and his broken promises- I've never once asked about leaving here because I've never seen reason to but now my heart beckons for an adventure as great as Valijean's albeit without becoming a prisoner of the law, although I am halfway there- stuck in this stupid tower.

I clench my fist and draw in a deep breath. I'll wait for darkness and then I'll leave; I don't know how I'm gonna get there but I'm sure there's a book in this library on magic _somewhere_. I pick up a satchel and begin to pack the few objects I'll need; a map, my journal- actually, I probably should leave that here. I place the journal back in the small lockable chest for safe keeping. I gaze to my right where a vast amount of books are shelved tidily following the Dewey decimal system. Thank God that this place was built after the system was created or it would take me all day to find anything let alone rearrange it all!

I walk over to a large book on a wooden stand and flip through it until I find the book I want; Oliver gave it to me as an apology for making me move here in 1914 and he promised I could move back- but then the second world war started and… well, let's just say it never happened.

I make my way over to the large bookcases, walking until I reach the right one, filled with various books on magic and the dark arts as well as numerous others I have _acquired_ over the years after various visits to Oliver's house. I slide the ladder along several bookshelves until it reaches the right one, then I climb said ladder all the way to the top and reach out to the big black book. I pull it out the shelf with ease and holding it firmly against my stomach, I climb back down.

Oliver enchanted this book for me because when I was younger (two hundred years younger) it was too heavy for me to hold but now I'm a lot stronger and I've already proved to him on numerous occasions that I can carry _heavier_ things- yet he still hasn't broken the spell for me, although, he's plenty happy to break promises to me, huh. I roll my eyes while stepping off the ladder before returning to the living area where my satchel lays haphazardly on the floor. I place the book in said satchel and count off everything I have on my hand.

"Book of magic, check… map, check… ooh, cloak for just in case it's raining!" I scurry over to the coat stand where my cloak hangs above the chest that holds my secret journal, "Gosh darn it! I really, really want to take that with me but…" I pause for a moment, deep in thought. "Aw heck, what's the worst that could happen anyway? They could read it?" I unlock the chest and pick up the leather-bound book that holds **all** of my research on humans and animals and anything and everything. I wrap the book of magic and journal up tightly in my cloak before sliding it into the leather satchel.

"OK, is that everything? I think that's everything! Perfect! Now, we wait for dark." It doesn't take long for the darkness to envelop the area in its black jacket of silence. I gaze out the window, squinting for any signs of movement. Nada. I swing the satchel over my shoulder before stopping, "I don't have any shoes!" I exclaim smacking myself in the face with my hand, "OK, this is fine, I'll just have to go back to my little house for some shoes." Unbeknownst to me a misty shadow smirks as it dissipates into thin air.

I walk over to the locked door of my tower and out of pure curiosity I turn the handle to find it's been unlocked all this time. I groan muttering the word stupid over and over as I walk down the large twisted staircase. I close the tower door behind me and make a quick dash for my house, running across the grass, just as I had done this morning, because I was worried about being late to meet Oliver, except this time the grass isn't soft and ticklish to my feet, it's hiding the jagged rocks that cut into my feet causing me to yelp in surprise. Once I reach the house, my feet are covered in dirt and cuts.

Nonetheless I still persevere. I climb the small staircase to my bed and wardrobe; upon seeing the latter object I cringe, knowing what lies ahead of me; a makeover. Unwillingly I dress in an outfit Flavio gave me for Christmas in the hopes I'd stop this whole 19th century clothing "phase" I'm "going through" but I hadn't even thought about these clothes until just now. I hid them in a box in the bottom of my wardrobe and had actually managed to forget about the offending objects. They're so flamboyant it makes me physically ill.

Fortunately I'm no stranger to heels but, the most skin I've ever shown is… my neck… Staring at my bare neck I search my room for something that might cover it, be it a scarf or,

"Choker," I sigh closing the clip on the aforementioned item of jewellery around my neck, "God forgive me," I remark shaking my head at myself in the mirror, touching a hand to my crucifix necklace. I've worn it as long as I can remember although that isn't _that_ far back seeing as I had an accident and ended up with **permanent amnesia**. It's OK though, Oliver and the others filled me in on what I missed.

I sit down at my dresser and brush through my long dark blonde hair. The clothes are uncomfortable and the heels pinch my feet too, all in all I hate these clothes and I doubt nothing will change that opinion. I clip my hair back and apply makeup that'll help me to fit in to wherever I end up, that is, if I end up in a place where gold jackets and tiny tops are cool and "in right now".

The makeup emphasises my brown eyes and freckles, making my nose look narrower too. This is something Flavio would call beautiful and fashionable and he'd probably even go as far as saying that I look _sexy_. I pull the clips out running a hand through my blonde curls and almost gag at the sight of such immodesty. Inhaling a deep breath I stand on shaky legs. When was the last time I wore high heels? I stumble down my small staircase, satchel in hand and ready to begin my journey- but first, I need to write an apology letter to Oliver.

As I write I brew some tea as a parting gift but I doubt he'll drink it, perhaps he'll turn it cold with his tears or maybe he'll freak out and throw it across the room and if he does then he's sure as eggs is eggs paying for the damages. Letter written and placed on the counter next to the tea, I open up the book of magic and scan the contents page for the chapter on dimension "hopping", once found, I memorise the short incantation and place the book back inside me bad, slinging it over my shoulder.

I get out a bowl from the cupboard and place it on the small, rectangular dining table in the centre of the makeshift living/dining room. I get out several blue candles and spread them around the bowl, lighting them with a match, quickly and carefully.

"Now, I need something from the 1P dimension, like… shoot! I didn't think this through very well, did I…" I berate myself, "Ah well, I'll just have to improvise." Normally with these spells, you'd have an object from the location you want to travel to, but I've never been to the 1P dimension before so naturally I haven't got anything. Ripping out a few pages from my journal I get out a sharp knife from the cutlery drawer, using it to cut my finger. "Let's see… where do I want to go… New York? I'm sure I'd fit in well enough there seeing as it is pretty much the fashion capitol of the world, or so I've heard." On the paper, I use my finger to smudge, 'NYC, NY, USA' on the A5 paper with my blood. After, I scrunch up said paper and drop it into the bowl, taking out another match to light the ball of blood-smeared, cream paper.

_"Conjuro te infernales spiritus,_

_ut mihi praeberetis auxilium._

_Transibo et potestas tua in me iubebo facili_

_1P scriptor abhinc ad momentum,_

_hoc volo ut fiat!"_

There's a flash as my surroundings disappear and everything fades to black.

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><p><strong>Thanks again for reading! Feel free to follow and review etc! It would be greatly appreciated!<strong>

**Ciao for now! :D**


	3. Chapter 2

Agh sorry this took so long ( / . \ ) Enjoy~

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_November 2015_

I stumble onto the frozen streets of New York City throwing my hands out in front of me to stop my face from smacking into anything.

"And don't come back," the bar-women hisses at me slamming the door. She returns not a minute later throwing my bags out onto the streets too before slamming the door one last time. It's the early hours of the morning and it's snowing too.

There's barely anyone out driving or walking, and it's still dark out. I pick up my bags and inhale deeply. The female dog of a cleaner caught me stealing from the cash register and snitched too the bar-women. I begin moving down the frozen street. I arrived here mid-march, seven-and-a-half months ago. What happened during those seven months you ask, nothing- well other than me committing a whole bunch of illegal offences without getting caught- until now.

It all started when I arrived:

"_Gah!" I exclaim scrapping through my bag once again, looking between it and the bartender. He smirks haughtily and leans against the bar. It's after closing hours so this place is entirely empty but despite that I still feel embarrassed that I haven't got any of the vital things one needs if they're going to run away. "I'm sorry, it seems I can't pay you." I make an awkward face that's halfway between cringing and confused because I've never, _ever _been in a situation like this before and I honestly don't know how to even, just, _react_._

"_S'OK, I know exactly how you can pay," he slurs, his eyes slowly trailing down my scarcely clothed body._

"_You do? Gre-" he roughly grabs my face and pulls it to his before he trails his hands down my body. I barely have time to taste the tobacco in his mouth because almost instantly, I bring my heeled foot down on his bare one. He cries out in pain, pushing off of me. I don't check to see if his foot is bleeding or not, instead I bring my elbow down on the back of his head, the contact forces a groan slip out his chapped lips, but instead of just letting him drop, I bring my knee up and after hearing the satisfying crack, which I associate with the sound of things breaking, I kick him where it hurts most and let him flop to the ground with a loud crash._

_I breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the counter, "It's been awhile…" I murmur and with a roll of my eyes I turn to the register on the bar. I make my way over to it and place my finger to the cash drawer. "Recludam…" I whisper and the drawer pops open. I empty it of its money, stuffing it into the pocket of my satchel. This whole bar smells of nicotine, maybe even drugs, alcohol and… sex… I shove the drawer closed and leave but not before looking back at the bartender. He's still laying on the floor, blood seeping out the wound on his foot, his greasy, matted, mid-length brown hair a messy flop over his face. His body shifts ever so slightly as he draws in quiet breaths. I walk out the door._

That was when it started, the sinning. I hadn't sinned in a while you see, ever since Oliver "threw me out" and even though I am Christian I don't believe in any of the stuff the bible says about sins because I believe that God made us to sin and wanted us to be imperfect, because that's what made us perfect to Him which is why I sin freely- except for swearing, I've never sworn and I doubt I ever will because Oliver doesn't like it.

I continue down the darkened street, watching the occasional car pass by, headlights momentarily illuminating everything. The light from twenty-four hour shops spill out onto the icy street. I hug myself, pulling the sleeves of my sweater over my hands as I walk. The skyscrapers are lit up and the individual lights shine bright like stars in the sky. I continue to wander for what must be hours and with each passing minute the snowfall only seems to get heavier.

I've been here over half a year and yet I haven't seen anything that would make Oliver freak out the way he did or at least, I don't think I have. It all seems the same here as it does in the 2P dimension, although I can't _really_ say that seeing as the last time I ever saw civilization before now was at least a hundred years ago. I stop outside a large café and sit on a frosty wooden bench.

The sun is peeking over the tops of buildings now and the roads are picking up with early morning traffic as commuters begin the journey to work. I watch pedestrians shuffle past in heavy coats and hats and scarfs and gloved hands shoved in empty pockets. I count my money; 10 dollars. With a sigh I stand and see the "open" sign on the café door. I enter. The queue is short and I blow the rest of my money on an overpriced iced coffee to go just for the sake of it. I step out of the small café and am immediately hit by a cold breeze, I shiver and pull my jumper around me tighter before continuing my aimless wandering. Just because I am effectively homeless, I'm determined to find what scares Oliver so much about this place even if it kills me! Besides, it's a little too late to give up now, just a little. I shake my head at that thought and let my mouth slip into a half-smile. Ol' Matt did say my curiosity would be the death of me although when he told me he was doped up on weed and feeling "super Zen" as he put it. He then began talking about karma and horoscopes or whatever.

I see a sign for central park and decide to go there for a while. When I arrive I see lots of children playing sports or sledging and snowboarding. A couple of older kids appear to be playing soccer too. I take a sip of my coffee and contemplate. I swear its Monday, maybe their having a snow day? I shrug it off, it doesn't concern me anyway. I shove my free hand in my pocket and admire how impressive the snow looks on the ground. Funny, I remember Allen mentioning the weather getting weirder but he put it down to global warning. Even so, this is an insane amount of snow for _November_- it's not even winter yet.

I make my way down the big path that leads straight through the park careful not to slip on the ice-ridden ground, my bags hanging from one arm and my coffee in the other. If you remember correctly, I left with one bag and have acquired another in recent times which doesn't have a purpose. Honest.

A round ball bounces onto the path in front of me; it's small and a faded but dirty red colour which disguised by the clumps of the snow stuck to it. Out of mere curiosity I pick it up using my "bag-hand" and look around for the owner. On my right I see a group of kids who looks like middle-scholars seemingly searching for something. I take a step towards them before a light tap on my shoulder causes me to reflexively pivot on my left foot and kick out with my right. The person I was aiming for laughs while dodging my carelessly aimed kick and I _almost_ fall.

"Yo, Greenland!" the native laughs, "What was that for, dude?!"

"Dude? Wait, what? I-I'm not-"

"Hey, sissy! I sought you were hanging wit' Miss Fiji for the studying today!" A foreign accent sounds and then it clicks- the _1P's_.

"F-Fiji? Oh right no I- I don't even know a Fiji! You must have me confused with somebody else!" I force out a nervous laugh. It wouldn't suit me if they worked out I was from another dimension. Gesturing to the ball, "By any chance is this yours?"

"I dunno, man, you look an awful lot like her- just with bigger boobs; amirite Dane?" America nudges Denmark, both are studying me vigorously. I bite the inside of my cheek and look away so that they don't see me blush.

Denmark responds, "I don't know about se boob sing but oser san sat you are right, I'd totally recognize my sister! Say, did you get amnesia or somesing?"

"What?" I frown pausing only for a moment before I shake my head and drop the ball before starting to walk back the way I came, "I'm sure you'll find your sister elsewhere and maybe when you do you can give me a call so I can say _I told you so_." They don't try to stop me and I have to resist the urge to look back at them, still feeling their eyes on my back. I hear a mobile ringing and then America answers.

I take a few deep breaths trying to calm my thundering heart and sipping my coffee and wondering if the remnants of blush on my cheeks are still visible and if so, can I pass it off as the effects of the cold? I can slowly feel the effects of the adrenaline wearing off and a familiar pain in my head inflicts itself upon me; it happens when I'm in an area of lots of people, arguably New York City has lots of people but it's not a permanent thing, it just props up every now and then.

This time the pain only seems to get worse instead of subsiding like normal. I whimper, dropping my coffee and stumbling over to a tree to lean on, cradling my head and sinking to my knees. I can feel the blood dripping from my nose, the tears sliding down my cheeks and the pressure in my head, growing with every throb as the silence grows louder and louder, like my heads filling up to the brim with white noise. It becomes increasingly hard to breathe and all of a sudden I feel like I'm being dragged further and further into the deep, dark depths of The Mariana Trench.

They say that at some point, when the pain becomes too great you pass out but I've always doubted that. I believe it's a number of other things that cause your loss of consciousness for instance fear, dehydration, sleep deprivation and the list goes on. Maybe I'm just unlucky and my body can endure great amounts of pain for even greater periods of time while conscious- mind over matter and all that but right now, I'd even welcome death.

I have no idea how long I was there for, sitting in the snow but not freezing, as my concept of time eludes me in such situations, but when I awake I'm in an infirmary. I know it's not a hospital because it doesn't smell so strongly of blood, pain and death- oh, and the beds besides me are empty which is also a good telling. A nurse comes in and gasps at the sight of my having awakened.

"Y-you're awake?!" She questions, "Honey, you're heart rate was so high I was surprised you weren't bleeding out your ears too!" She appears to be pretty mousy and looks kind of like a rat but her pretty petite appearance is contrasted by her deep voice. I gently feel my nose and find it seemingly blood free which is also a good thing.

"He," I start, my voice hoarse and my chest pained with every drawn in breath, "wie spät ist es?" I'm not the first to register my language error.

"I'm uh, ah- es tut mir leid! Sprechen Sie Englisch?" She's smiling however I find it unbecoming of her ragged face. Her lips are chapped under the red lipstick and her acne shines through her cakey orange foundation, her eye makeup is messy and she has poorly concealed bags under her eyes; her roots are also grey.

"Oh ja- yes, sorry," I laugh and she relaxes.

"Good! Because that's the only German I know!" she giggles and hides her mouth behind her wrinkly palm- it's like I can see her aging right there in front of me, slowly rotting away in her dying body. I blink and it's like everything's reset, she looks young again, like she did when she walked in- she looks different. No longer is her acne or chapped lips or dark bags present but instead it's been replaced by _new skin_.

"Anyway," she coughs slightly, "Its lunchtime if you're hungry- I'll go get Denmark and America and they can show you around the school!" She skips off happily chatting about how _great_ the whole ordeal will be and whatever before I have a chance to voice any form of protest- not that I have a problem with just _them_ it's more that I have a problem with _everything_ like food, what's the point in eating if you'll only get hungry again? And then you'll have to go to the toilet and that wastes even more time and then you have no time.

There's a morphine drip in my arm and a heart monitor beside the bed. I close my eyes and feel overcome with euphoria. James and I used to do drugs together a lot and I dabbled with opiates a few times. Gosh, I kinda miss him. The sound of heels smacking the floor in a fast paced beat sounds. I concentrate on my breathing; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale- the drip is pulled out of my arm.

"Hun, it's time to wake up!" the nurse squeaks out; her balls must've dropped. I open my eyes and sit up rubbing my forehead.

"Hey dudette, you okay?" America asks from the doorway and I nod pushing off the hospital bed.

"You shouldn't need to come back but if you do then I'll be seeing you!" The nurse informs me and I laugh awkwardly mumbling a skeptical "Yeah," before following America out of the infirmary.

"Where are we?" I question looking around, the walls of the hallway are empty.

America eagerly responds, "We're at World Academy W! Home to the schooling of all the nations! I, the Hero, will be your dutiful tour guide for this afternoon! Now, tell me, my fine companion, what is it they call you?" I think he's looking in my direction but I continue looking ahead, towards the elevator.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, "My name is…" I look around, do I tell him my real name? What if he realizes who I am? "Grace!" The doors open and we step inside. As he presses the button to take us to whatever floor I casually note how tall he is. Well, if the worst comes to it, I'll have to use the magic of persuasion.

Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I study his other features carefully but nothing draws my attention except how familiar he is. It's not that he looks similar to Allen -although it may just be that- it's that he just _looks_ familiar, like I've seen him before like, as he is now. I catch myself staring but don't look away.

"Hey, Grace," America turns towards me, his hands in his pockets, he doesn't seem to react to my staring. It takes me a minute and then I figure out he's waiting for a response.

"Uh, right," I run a hand through my hair, "Yeah?" The doors to the elevator open and he just responds with a "Never mind!" and we commence the tour.

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><p>Thanks for reading! Let me know what'cha think! And hopefully Denmark's accent wasn't too awful *cries* Auf Wiedersehen!<p> 


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